It's hot here.
90 degrees. Plus a hot breeze. Oy, it sucks the moisture out of one's body.
This morning I finished all the planting that is going to happen around here this season.
The green beans went in the ground, the crookneck squash, the zuchinni, and finally two packs of petunias got stuck in the ground.
I'm DONE.
Now it's my job to protect all these plants from this nasty little beastie:
Over the last two nights alone I have dispatched about forty of them.
Yes Virginia, I said forty.
We only had slugs until this year. I can only guess that we had a hitchhiker on some plant we bought at the nursery. I rue the day.
I haven't bought any poisons yet, I'm worried about the animals, though I have been told there are things that won't hurt them available. I just haven't looked into it yet. In the meantime, it's search and destroy. I feel so callous.
But they can do in a small plant in one night if left to their own devices.
So it's war.
And as everyone knows, war is hell.
I have been picking them off my plants and other places I spot them and plopping them into a pan of salt. I can only stand stomping on one or two of them, then I lose my nerve. So it's the salt mines for them. Once in a while I apologize to them. If they would just stay in the weed patch that is my neighbor's yard, they would be safe and cozy. But here, we have food growing and all bets are off.
Sigh.
Who knew gardening could be so violent.